


A Past, A Terrible Thing.

by Emu_Mosh_Veteran



Series: A Lottery of Consequences [10]
Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Existential Horror, Gen, Nightmares, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emu_Mosh_Veteran/pseuds/Emu_Mosh_Veteran
Summary: It's the night after the game, and Wyatt Quitter needs her friends.
Series: A Lottery of Consequences [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924867
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	A Past, A Terrible Thing.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [let’s tear up this rotten world together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161491) by [elliotfromseattle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliotfromseattle/pseuds/elliotfromseattle). 



After ten years, it was Game Day again for Wyatt Quitter, batter for the Tokyo Lift.

She had a joyous grin on her face, the sheer glee at being back on the pitch after so long making her feel giddy, even. The Batter waved up at the crowds, making finger guns at a small contingent of her own personal fan club, people who'd stuck with her through change from the Taco's to the Lift. The grin dimmed for the briefest instant as old, bad memories stirred, then were pushed down. That had been so long ago, and now was a time to drink, be merry and Play Ball! The roar of the crowd as she took up position on the plate was deafening, a heady rush that -

_*SNAP*_

-was gone. so very, very suddenly. Quitter looked up at the crowd, seeing a sea of faces all fear white and whispering.

All of them, turned towards her.

Quitter quailed internally as the whispering hubbub grew, filling the air like white noise.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

It was the searing, burning pain that got her attention away from the crowds, a sensation that shot up her arm and made her drop the bat. A gasp, and clutching her aching arm to herself, Quitter noticed the harsh smell of burning ozone now as well, and that all around her was a patch of perfect ash black glass. It took them a moment to realize that it used to be the earth beneath the batters plate, which was an almost pristine white now. From the edge of the patch, a thin trail of blackened ground led Quitter's eyes towards the mound where she saw. . . .

_She SAW IT!_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

They'd all seen it. Denzel Scott, Shelled on the pitching plate by one of the leagues own.

Jaylen grimaced to herself as she poured a cup of coffee. The event was all over the news, Quitter stepping up to the plate, then a dark nimbus of energy swirling into for around her like a black hole. The crowd falling silent and murmuring somewhat excitedly as the various experts tried to guess what new gimmick the league had installed into the game now. Then someone noticed that her hair was white, white like their time on the Pods.

Then their arm snapped up, pointing their bat at the Spies pitcher. The energy flew through it like a thunderbolt straight at Denzel, wrapping into a lattice around the Spy and then, finally, coalescing into a shell. A Peanut Shell.

She was at the Podded Player Support Group House, a little something a few people had come together and helped Jaylen buy in the aftermath of Season 11. Some folks, after being freed, hadn't been doing so well without help, and Jaylen, well, she'd felt an obligation to help however she could. It hadn't been easy, to start out with. A lot of the players affected had problems with Jaylen, some of them barely tolerating her, while one or two straight up attacked her. One of them, Jessica Telephone, was here, offering their support to Quitter. Mike Townsend had pitched in when things seemed like they would fail before they could even start, NaN too. Between them, they'd gotten a few people to show for a meet, and then another. Then those people brought more people, and then more again.

It had taken time, but Jaylen had been running this place for the other players for most of the ten years of the siesta now, and she didn't have any plans to stop with the new season.

After this, though, she wondered cynically if they'd all clam up again. the pitcher shook the thought though, reasoning that they'd all put too much work in to let it fell apart at the first sign of. . . whatever this was.

She sat down with Quitter and Jess, Pothos was there too, gently cuddling her partner and just being there for them. There was something that Jaylen needed to ask, something that she was finding extremely hard to put into words. She could see it though, in the way that Pothos looked at her, at the way that Jess leaned forward, and she didn't even want to think about what the other members of the group were thinking about right now. It was probably the reason no one else had turned up.

Finally, she asked the question. And Wyatt Quitter told her about. . .

_. . . the light that shone, red and glaring, through the remains of a stadium. Quitter didn't know where they were._

'ARE YOU NOT AFRAID?'

_The voice blared through the still air like a klaxon, making the batter clutch at their ears and grit their teeth in pain._

'YOU THREW YOUR LOT IN WITH A CHARLATAN AND A PUPPET.'

_Quitter looked around wildly, but all they could see was fire blasted skeletons dressed in the uniforms of the league. Tacos, Tigers, Spies, Fridays, Garages. . . all of them._

'INSULT AFTER INJURY, AFTER ALL I HAVE GIVEN YOUR PATHETIC LEAGUE. **IT WILL NOT STAND.** '

_The ground started shaking, the klaxon turning into a roar as the dull red glare throbbed like a heartbeat, strong and steady, getting brighter and brighter with each pulse._

' **YOU IMAGINED YOU COULD CAST DOWN A GOD AND THAT WOULD BE THE END? NONE OF YOU UNDERSTAND THE POWERS YOU MEDDLE WITH, AND THEY WILL BE YOUR END, _NOT MINE!'_**

_Quitter was screaming too now, the assault on her senses too much to bear as she fell to her knees on the fire blackened pitch._

**'I WILL NOT BE DENIED! I WILL NOT BE SILENCED! I WILL NOT BE ENDED! YOU ARE ALL OF YOU MINE BLASEBALL!"**

_The batter curled themselves into a ball, rocking back and forth as her screams tore at her throat and her hands scrabbled at her ears, trying to tear them off and end the all-encompassing noise.  
_

**'FEAR ME, PITIFUL LEAGUE, I AM COMING HOME.'  
**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the drive home, Pothos held Quitters hand tightly, stroking it with her thumb as she remembered the dream. She'd had it too, just like Quitter.

Just like Jessica.

Just like Jaylen.

Jaylen had said that it was probably likely that the others had had the same dream, and the thought terrified Pothos. After so long, why was this happening now? Still, she was less worried about herself than she was for Quitter. Though they didn't remember much of their time in the Pods, Quitter had remembered one thing, one emotion that they could dredge up through the haze.

Quitter had relished that time, and for the longest time after being freed that thought had scared and sickened her, that she could become . . . . like that. It made what they had told Pothos in the car, after leaving the support group, all that more worrying.

The Dream had told her that she would be the first.

She didn't know why she hadn't shared that.

Pothos, however, knew that she wouldn't let it happen to her Quitter again, and she would do anything to protect her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elsewhere, Jessica Telephone slept soundly, more so than she had in years. She had also kept something from everyone else.

The Dream had told her to rejoice. Hope was at hand.

The league, the game, they had broken her down in so many ways. It was good to have hope again.

Such secret, vengeful hope.


End file.
